Twisted Grief
by latefortea
Summary: What if Christine returned to the Phantom of her own free will? What will happen when Madame Giry comes to her "rescue?" This will be a combination of Leroux, ALW, and Kay's Phantom.
1. Chapter 1

**Yet another new story. Thank you all for the amazing reviews! I hope you like this!**

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Former Ballet mistress, Madame Giry, sat silently at her kitchen table sipping tea. She was looking over the letter she sent to Christine about a month ago now. It came back to her undeliverable.

"Well, Christine. If you are not with your Vicomte, then where are you?"

She spoke softly to herself and stood up. She put her cup in the small sink and as she washed it, started to hum a melody that had found its way into her head.

She had gotten nearly halfway through before she could recall the name of the tune she was humming.

She dropped the cup and her hands shook. Madame Giry was no longer an authority figure; she no longer needed to be strong for anyone. She cursed Christine for leaving before she could receive the letter. She cursed herself even more for leading that boy to the Phantom.

"You could have gone yourself, had you any courage."

She shook her head as she grabbed the letter and tore it up.

Then she heard a knock at her door.

"Meg! So it is you after all!"

Meg was always cheerful. Always. Madame Giry smiled and then realized that Meg wasn't cheerful now.

Meg ran into her tiny apartment without a greeting and sat down quickly. Madame Giry joined her and Meg took her hands.

"Mother, I ran into someone at the market today." Meg inhaled deeply and quickly.

"It was Christine. I could hardly tell you know! There were bags under her eyes and her skin was pale and she tried so to avoid me and it looked as if she was getting supplies for a year and-" Madame Giry wiped the tears from her eyes.

"It's all right, sshh my darling. Sshh!" Meg broke out of her mother's grasp.

"When I finally caught her, I asked her how she was and I could see right through her lies. I forced it out of her! She told me that she left the Vicomte before they married! Six months they spent together in bliss and she left him! It makes no sense mother! I asked her why she left him and she refused to answer, so I asked where she was staying and all she said was that she didn't need to stay with me, that she was fine and that she would write when she could but she did not even know my address! I had not seen her since that night last year, as you well know." Meg was speaking quickly, but took no pleasure in it as she used to.

"I forced her to take my address before she left but she would not tell me hers! I wanted to ask her why she had so much food and why she looked so dreadfully tired and worried—yes worried! I fear for her, mother!" Meg blew her nose on a handkerchief embroidered with her new initials.

Madame Giry took her daughter in her arms and whispered.

"At least we know now she is alive."

"But for how much longer mother?"

Meg challenged her mother, who secretly agreed with her.

"Well, now we wait for her to write to you. That is all we can do."

…

A month passed before Meg received a letter.

She thanked the man who delivered it, who got no further than to the end of the street before Meg ran after him with the letter that had no return address.

"Where was this sent from? Oh, you must tell me!"

The man looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Ah, yes, strangest thing that letter . . . a lady from the Paris opera house, Madame. Well, what is left of the place anyway . . .

…

_Dearest Meg,_

_I tearfully regret my rudeness to you when we ran into each other. I was in quite a state at the time. I must also apologize to you, for writing this letter so late. I have not been free to write you see, I can only say that I have been kept busy._

_Now, about Raoul, I will tell you everything._

_The months I spent with Raoul were glorious because __he__ did not appear to me. I thought it must be a sign, a light in the darkness; a sign that he had finally let me go. But when I was free of him, I actually missed him. I actually missed the murder, the childish devil of the opera house. And not only that, but my guilt did not vanish just because he did. _

_The more I thought of him, the further away I found myself from Raoul, who was only kind and gentle to me. I started to realize why he stayed down there, why he ran the opera house, everything. My conscience would not let me ignore him, so I didn't._

_You never knew this Meg, but I went back after our confrontation. It was the ring he put on my finger, it was my reason to return to him again. When he looked at me and told me he loved me, I started to say it back, but the words would not leave my mouth. Crying, I began to walk away and entirely on impulse turned back. His face told me that it was all right to leave him even though every ounce of me knew I had to stay._

_But I left because he wanted me to. And it was the worst mistake I ever could have made._

_The moronic and insane man we feared plunged a dagger in my chest that filled the hole I so longed to fill after my father died. My heart now is filled with fear, grief, pain, and although it seems impossible, love too. I __was__ am connected with him, pulled by him. I know it may appear that he is somehow enslaving me or even hurting me, but that is farthest from the truth. Incredibly I have found that I am not sane without him. _

_Please believe me when I say I am where I long to be. I am with him by my own free will. I do not have a choice. Please, my dearest friend, do not come after me or contact me again._

_I love you more than you know. Send my love and good wishes to your mother._

_Christine_

…

Before Meg told her mother where the letter had come from Madame Giry's eyes were already wide in shock.

"We must go to her."

"But-" Meg protested. "Haven't we interfered enough?"

Madame Giry raised her hand to strike.

"Do you not care enough about that beautiful young girl—who is practically your sister? How dare you suggest we leave her!"

"Mother, I do not want to interfere _because _I care about her. If she knows what she wants, who am I to assume she is in trouble, to try and disturb the life she's chosen?"

"You may not agree with me, but we are going nonetheless." And with that, Madame Giry stood.

Meg stood suddenly in rebellion.

"I will take no part in this, mother. I wish you luck." Meg pecked her mother on the cheek and left her in silence. Madame Giry noticed the tears in her eyes but said nothing; she sighed as she moved into her bedroom to dress for the journey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews! I feel like I could wrap this whole story up in the next chapter, depending on whether or not I have any more ideas. I'm sure I'm better at writing short stories rather than long ones. Enjoy!**

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It wasn't until Meg had stormed out of her mother's small apartment that she realized who she and her mother should have gone to. Raoul! Meg shook her head and told her taxi to take her to the De Chagny house rather than her own.

The house was always very beautiful, she had observed. But upon her entrance inside, she saw that the place was nearly in ruins. She entered Raoul's study to see papers strewn about, books open and thrown carelessly onto the floor, and the rank smell of cigarettes and whiskey. Raoul was asleep in his armchair and Meg noticed he was snoring.

"Hello, monsieur? It's Meg! Meg Giry? Hello?"

Meg's shrill voice moved Raoul from his sleep and he popped up out the chair.

"Huh? Who's there?" His voice was defensive.

"It's Meg Giry, monsieur."

Raoul rose and turned around.

"What in god's name are you doing in my house, Meg Giry?"

Meg stepped back in disgust as Raoul said her name as if she were no more than the small ballet girl she was a year ago. Meg scoffed.

"It concerns your wife, monsieur. Or have you divorced? What a disgrace . . ."

"What do you know of Christine?" Raoul cut in.

"Well, I am sure you do not care to hear from such a brat as I, hmm? I am so terribly sorry to have bothered you, monsieur. Good day."

Meg curtsied gracefully, dashing any doubts Raoul still carried that she was not yet a mature adult. She turned to leave when Raoul stopped her.

"Wait mademoiselle! Or is it Madame?" Meg laughed.

"Why yes monsieur, it is." Meg flashed her left hand. Raoul smiled that tried and true false smile, guaranteeing again as it always did that he could get whatever he wanted.

"What do you know of Christine, Madame?"

"Only that she appeared at the market yesterday, monsieur, quite tired and apparently separated from you." Raoul rubbed his tense neck as she spoke. Meg folded her arms.

"What was it that set you off, Raoul?" Raoul let out a grumble at this.

"What set _me _off Madame? I was never off, it was she . . . she was always off and I always knew it, but I refused to see it."

"Oh, I see . . ." Meg let out in a tone that told him she did not believe a word of it.

"I could see it in her eyes monsieur . . . that you dared to hurt her enough to make her do what she did! Ah, monsieur if you knew what she did you would kick yourself! Ah, I shall not tell you but only ask you—how exactly did you two fall out?"

Raoul's eyes were fixed curiously on Meg's mouth now, waiting for the next piece of information, if she chose to give it. He finally looked down and sighed. He sat in his armchair and motioned for the couch; Meg slowly sat across from him.

"I suppose I'll start from the beginning." Raoul coughed and took his whiskey glass from the side-table.

"You know as well as I do how far that fucking Opera Ghost had her mind entangled. After he freed us it was as if Christine had died. She was relieved at first, and thankful, but the sometime that night, during our journey, her face changed. She went pale; something that I thought would pass . . . it did not pass. She lost her color permanently it seemed. Whenever I even moved to touch her she snapped at me:

'I'm fine, Raoul, really!' She would smile then, and it was almost believable. It became harder and harder to pull her out of her dazes, her moods . . ."

Raoul took a sip of his whiskey.

"I brought up the wedding so many times I lost count. She and I were living together and engaged for what was then a year- but talk of marriage would send her directly into what I could only place as depression. Of course I didn't want to hurt her on purpose! I love her! I love her still, but I wanted to marry my true love. I was tired of waiting. At last we had out with it and she attacked me, as if her depression, whatever was off inside of her, just combusted. She screamed at the top of her lungs."

He went into a coughing fit then, and Meg made him drink.

"Thank you. Anyway, I asked her then, what exactly I was doing to her. She got quiet. She started to sob but I was too mad to comfort her. She looked at me directly and started laughing.

'You didn't do anything!' She laughed some more. 'You've done nothing at all, Raoul, nothing at all.' She went to our room and I started to pace the floor, to try to find some way to help her. She came out and I was ready to fall at her feet! But no! She had her bags in hand and, the ass I was, I couldn't move. I was frozen and she smiled.

'You deserve someone who isn't mad, Raoul.' She kissed me on the cheek and walked to the door. As soon as I realized what had happened, I bolted through the door. She was walking still and I called after her:

I said, 'Where will you go? Christine! Where will you go?' On and on I yelled but she would not look at me. I ran toward her and she turned around and started to back up.

'Let me go, Raoul. Let me go! Let it go. She was crying and I reached out to grab her but something stopped me. She backed up until she reached the street, she didn't break eye contact with me until then. She was so low, so melancholic. And I just let her go. Why did I let her go?"

He coughed again. Meg ran to his side but he shooed her away.

"I'm fine! Now Madame, don't you think I deserve to know where she is?"

"You do." Meg sighed.

"The truth monsieur . . . I don't know where she is. All I know is that she did not look good when I saw her."

Meg knew Raoul deserved to know where Christine was and that she shouldn't have lied, but she feared what Raoul would do to him and to Christine, if he found them. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Do not fear for Christine. She had money from what I saw and bought enough food for herself."

"I am afraid I cannot help but worry for her. We both will have to deal with this."

Meg nodded and curtsied once more, leaving Raoul.

"Good day, monsieur."

"Madame." Raoul bowed clumsily.

Meg left and Raoul collapsed again into his chair and refilled his glass.

…

Meg again returned to her mother's apartment to tell her what had happened. She knocked on the door but there was no answer.

"Oh, mother" Meg whispered, "what are you thinking." She got in the taxi and thought about where she should go. The man's harsh voice broke her thought.

"Where to, Madame?!"

"Oh! To the opera house, please."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews! I actually cried while writing this chapter...**

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Madame Giry didn't realize how nervous she was until she stepped out of the taxi and stood before the opera house. Only a year had passed but it felt like a decade since she had last seen this building . . .

She circled the front and made her way to the entrance below. Erik had only shown her the way once before and if she was lucky she would make it through unharmed.

…

In the house by the lake, a bell rang. Christine's eyes shot up to it in terror but her angel did not move. The letter! Christine could kick herself for thinking that she could send it with no consequence.

When Madame Giry opened the door, she saw the wreck that was now the Phantom's home. She saw Christine's wild hair uncombed, bags under her eyes, and Erik, without his mask. He did not stop playing the organ as he directed Christine on and on through the aria. Her throat was sore and her eyes sad.

Christine put herself between Madame Giry and Erik. She held out her arms but they trembled from her lack of sleep. Madame Giry was blinded more than ever now by his yellow eyes. He stopped playing only to hide his face. He hunched over. Madame Giry held her hands out now to plead with Christine.

"Come to your senses, girl!"

"You are in danger, child!"

"Come here at once!"

None of these worked. Madame Giry tried to approach her but was stopped when Erik spoke. His voice was far more insane than she had ever heard him—the poor man was completely mad.

"She is with Erik by her own free will Madame! She will testify to what I've said, won't you angel?"

Christine actually smiled at Erik. She was so desperate to keep his insanity contained to only her.

"Yes, yes! Madame Giry, happy as I am to see you—please know that I am here by my own will! We must dine together one night, yes? But not tonight you see, for Erik is working on his finest opera yet!" She looked around desperately and then continued.

"Yes, we-we are very busy at the moment you see—do forgive us, I will write to you soon!"

Madame Giry was furious at Erik for taking away this girl's sanity. She is too young to die!

Christine rushed toward Madame Giry to escort her out, unaware of her mistake. Madame Giry grabbed Christine and began to pull her to the door. Christine fought violently but shouted out to Erik:

"Erik, darling! Don't hurt her Erik! Don't hurt her! Don't!" she pushed Madame Giry back. Erik ran forward but stopped when Christine told him to. Christine was strong but Madame Giry was stronger. She maintained her grip on the girl and pulled until she felt something pull on her coat.

She heard a scream and then was pulled further back so forcefully that she lost her grip on Christine.

"Meg, help me and grab her!"

"Let her go mother!"

Finally, Meg grabbed her mother and held her back from Christine. The only sound that could be heard was their labored breaths. Erik looked ready to strike but would not move until directed by Christine.

Meg just stared at Christine. The longer she looked at her the more sorrow she felt. Christine had been her closest friend when they stayed here only a year ago. They had shared everything—well, everything but her Angel of Music. She loved Christine as a sister. She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked only to realize she was crying. She loved Christine so much and she didn't know how to help her.

"Christine."

Christine stared back at her, and remembered their bond—she realized that in order to even return here she had to forget such a friendship existed with anyone, especially Meg. The only way to survive with Erik was to forget the world outside of his home. The only way to avoid longing and wonder is to forget.

Meg ran to Christine and embraced her. They cried onto each other's shoulders until Christine remembered Erik, who now had his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him.

"Don't worry, Erik. I'm not going anywhere." She turned back to Meg, whose face had twisted into anger.

"What? You actually plan to _stay _here, Christine? Are you mad?" Meg's hands flew to cover her lips after she said this. She didn't realize until this moment that it might actually be true. She shook her head.

"I tried to tell mama not to come! I told her that we have no bearing on your decisions, and we don't! I just don't know if you're truly in pain or not, Christine! I love you and I must know!"

Christine, who was only moments before ready to defend Erik, who would say anything to defend him, could say nothing. She looked at Erik and then down at her feet. Erik moved forward when she hesitated—his life depended on Christine and she knew it. She didn't want to hesitate but it happened. And in turn Erik descended.

"Angel, tell little Giry that you wish to stay with Erik! You are happy here and you want for nothing! Tell her!"

Christine trembled as she held out her hand telling Erik to wait.

"My papa and mama are gone, Meg. I am of no station to marry Raoul. I have nowhere else to go. Was my life not madness before my soul became caught to Erik's? Was I not mad with grief for my papa already? What makes you think I was not mad before now? I was mad all this time, but silent too."

"You have nowhere else to go? Your mama is dead? Hah! Your mother and sister stand before you now! You are welcome in my home always." Meg reached out for Christine's hand but she drew back. Meg stepped back and looked at her and then Erik. She sighed. Through tears she spoke:

"I do not want to lose my best friend. I do not want to lose my sister. But I will not force you. Let me hug you one more time?" Christine broke into tears and nodded her head furiously. They embraced again and held each other tight. Christine whispered:

"Watch for a woman with curly brown hair picking out apples while you are next at the market."

Meg was about to question her when Christine placed her finger over her lips, insisting on silence. Meg understood. She stepped back from Christine and went to her mother who was furious still.

"Come along mother. Christine will be all right." Meg sent a knowing glance to her mother who knew a plan must have been made. She ran to embrace Christine before leaving the house.

Once their company went, Christine looked back to Erik, who already returned to the organ's bench.

...

Meg and her mother got into the taxi and Meg, still distraught, held onto her mother for support.

"Oh, Meg." She sighed. "Why would anyone choose that?"

She leaned on her shoulder and her mother stroked her hair. Meg thought out loud.

"I guess it's easier to be mad than face reality."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all of the amazing reviews! Here is the next chapter!**

**I replaced this chapter after adjusting some things.**

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Today was Sunday. Exactly one month earlier, Meg first saw Christine at the market. Meg noticed her sweaty palms as she dressed to leave. She told herself to breathe. She used nearly all of her strength just to convince her mother to stay home.

"Come back as quickly as you can and tell me everything!" The worried woman called after her daughter who was now down the street stepping into a taxi.

When she was let out in front of the market her eyes instinctively went to the apples, where Christine said she would be. Christine was not there.

It was early yet, Meg thought anxiously. She will be here soon. Meg did her best to look as if she had nothing on her mind except the food she was selecting . . . now at random. She whispered every so often to herself.

"Come on, Christine."

Meg waited at the market for another twenty minutes. She picked up every piece of fruit she saw and examined it extensively in order to avoid suspecting glances. During her tenth or eleventh circle around the market she heard a whisper just as she passed the apples. She did a double take.

"Christine!"

"Sshh Meg! I'm here."

"What is this all about?"

Christine looked up at Meg, who could tell that Christine's skin was begging for light, for warmth. Her nose started to sting. Christine looked down.

"Meg, I have told Erik that I must do some extra shopping today, so he has allotted me an extra hour. May . . . may we go to your house and talk?"

Meg smiled and instantly made her way to the other side of the stand to hug Christine tightly.

"Let us go."

* * *

Once inside, Meg hurried into the kitchen and threw together some tea for the two of them. Christine stared at Meg intently when she came back.

"Here you go, Christine."

"Thank you."

"What is wrong? Why are you staring at me?" Meg let out a little laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Christine blinked and shook her head as if to break out of it.

"I was just thinking of how happy I am for you, with a husband, and such a wonderful house! Oh, Meg. How you deserve all that you have!"

Meg sat next to Christine and Christine gave her a peck on the cheek. Meg smiled.

"I am very lucky."

"Indeed!"

"So," Meg wanted to stop, she didn't want to talk about something so sad, about Erik, but she gulped and continued anyway, "Christine, I know this is hard . . . just . . . just tell me everything . . . just tell me what you want to do." Christine looked down.

"I feel guilty, Meg. Guilt I think will always remain with me, I just need . . . I know that what I'm doing isn't right, or healthy. I know that, but what can I do? Leave poor Erik all alone? I tried doing that, Meg and it didn't work! I'm consumed by Erik. Everything is poor Erik! I just see no other option than to remain with him."

Meg felt helpless. It was easy to tell Christine to leave Erik, but was it the right thing to do? Meg thought a long time while Christine slowly rested her head on Meg's shoulder. Meg rested her head on a pillow and the two of them remained there for a long time. Meg rubbing Christine's shoulder and Christine just allowing her heart to dwell on poor Erik.

At last, Meg sat up. She thought on and on about the situation, and she figured out a couple things. One, she did not know Erik as well as Christine seemed to, so she could not give him any consideration. Two, that Christine was her best friend, and Christine was withering away. That was something she couldn't allow.

"Christine. You are suffering down there in the dark. You're most likely ill and disconnected from the world. I don't want that for you. If you ask me, I will tell you to leave and live here with me until you get back on your feet. And before you say no—just look at yourself in the mirror."

Meg led Christine to the mirror, where upon the sight of her face, Christine gasped. She could not remember the last time she looked into a mirror. Erik's home had no mirrors and she knew better than to ask for one.

Christine's skin was ghostly. The bags under her eyes were dark. Her lips were chapped, and her eyes dim. Tears fell down her face as she fell into Meg's arms. She was weak and tired. And there was one more thing. It was getting harder and harder to push Raoul from her thoughts. She regretted so much. She made a decision on impulse.

"Meg?"

Meg led Christine to the couch and made her drink the rest of her tea.

"Yes?"

"Would it be possible for you to take me to see Raoul?"

Meg's heart jumped at this.

"Oh, yes, yes!"

In no time they were in another taxi to the Chagny residence.

Once there, Christine paced back and forth after Meg knocked on the door. At last, a servant opened it. When Christine hid behind Meg, she took the lead and walked in, being sure to grab tightly onto Christine's hand. Christine followed slowly.

Once again, Raoul was in his study. But this time he seemed to be at work. They heard him raise his voice when the servant entered.

"I told you not to disturb me!"

"Monsieur, it is the young woman who came to see you last week."

"Meg Giry?"

Meg appeared behind the servant in the hallway.

"Yes, Raoul!"

"Come in then, come in."

Meg rushed in and Christine eagerly looked in after her.

"Someone is here to see you." That is all Meg said, that is all she had to say. Raoul knew.

He rushed out of the door to see Christine standing there in tears. He ran to her and with all of his strength embraced her. She sobbed into his shoulder.

"Will you have me back? Oh you should not! Will you . . ."

"Of course I will have you back Christine, I just worried every day you were gone, I couldn't . . . I didn't . . . I'm so glad you're back."

"I'm sorry I ever left."

At this Raoul kissed her.

"I know how you cannot help wanting to comfort your 'poor Erik,' and I understand."

"Raoul, you were the only one who was there, who really saw him. You know . . ."

"Yes, yes." He squeezed her as she rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her head and whispered softly:

"I won't let you go again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the great reviews! This is the final chapter of this story.**

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They broke the embrace and stared at each other for a long time. Then suddenly, Christine broke out of the trance.

"Meg, what time is it?"

"Nearly ten o'clock, Christine. Why do you—oh!" Meg quickly realized that Christine had somewhere to be.

"Meg, may I borrow your basket? I must return with some evidence that I went to the market."

"Oh, of course you may!" Meg held out her basket filled with fruit she aimlessly grabbed while waiting for Christine. Christine took it and put it at her feet. Then she looked up Raoul and sighed.

"Raoul, I have to go take care of this somehow . . . and darling . . . don't get angry, but you can't come."

"But Christine—"

"Raoul, your presence won't help anything."

Christine took Raoul's hands and kissed them.

"You're just going to have to trust that I will return to you."

Raoul placed his finger under her chin and lifted her head slightly, so he could kiss her.

"I trust you."

Christine hugged him quickly and then bolted for the door. She knew that if she waited one more second she would lose her nerve entirely. Meg ran to catch up with her. Once inside the taxi, Christine squeezed Meg's hand. Meg spoke to the driver:

"Could you take us to the Opera house, please?"

* * *

In no time at all they had arrived.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"This is something I have to do on my own, Meg, but thank you." She kissed Meg on the cheek and then got out and made her way down the street.

* * *

Christine thought she was ready but as she approached the entrance, she decided she wasn't.

it didn't matter now, if she was not back within fifteen minutes, Erik would suspect the worst.

She walked as slowly as possible, one, because she could not catch her breath, and two, because she dreaded the pain she was about to cause.

At last, she faced the lake. She had used the boat dozens of times to cross, but this time she could not be certain of anything.

She got in the boat and crossed the lake. Every once in a while she would try to make herself believe that this was just a normal day, when she normally went to the market and came back. She reached the other side, and recognized to herself that there was not one remotely normal thing about her life.

"Oh my angel, I feared you would never return!"

Erik heard her enter and he immediately took the basket from her hands and placed it in the kitchen.

Christine breathed a barely audible "thank you." She felt her throat tighten.

When he reentered he approached her timidly.

"Angel, you have bought a new basket."

"What? Oh! Oh, yes I have. It is nicer than my old one don't you think?"

Erik did not answer and instead happily sat himself down on the organ's bench and placed his hands on the keys. He was about to play when a thought entered his mind.

"Angel, I have many new pieces prepared."

Erik played a chord. The last thing he expected was Christine to interrupt him.

"Erik!"

He lifted his hands off of the keys but did not turn around.

Christine closed her eyes and inhaled.

"I will not be singing today."

"Oh?"

Christine clenched her fists.

"I will not be singing today, or any other day."

"Oh?"

Erik's tone was menacing now.

"I have returned to ask you a question."

"Oh, do ask, child."

Christine wanted to rip her hair out.

"I'm here to ask you to release me."

"Release you?"

Erik stood. He approached Christine slowly, being sure to keep the right side of his face in plain view. He whispered.

"Do you remember the night that you returned to me?"

Christine's eyes filled with tears. She nodded.

"You ran in here—how you survived I'll never know—out of breath and crying. You know how I hate to see you cry . . .

You stood before me that night, as proud as you are now, and do you remember what you said?"

Christine nodded.

"You said, 'I have returned to you. Do not ask me why, just accept me. I beg of you.'

That _is _what you said isn't it?"

Christine closed her eyes and nodded.

"And what else could I do, dear Christine . . . but accept you? I accept you for all that you are because I love you."

Erik was barely an inch away from Christine now.

"Try to tell me," he breathed, "that you do not, somewhere inside of you, find love for me."

His hot breath warmed her face and her tears blurred her vision.

"You returned to me for a reason, Christine. You—"

"Guilt."

Erik was not prepared for her words.

"You—"

"Pity."

She stared him down.

"I love your lie.

I love the Angel of Music.

But I do not love Erik."

Christine began to sob.

"I _cannot_ love Erik."

Erik did not scream, not yet. Instead he whispered:

"You _will not_ love Erik."

Christine shook her head wildly. Her voice shook when she spoke.

"No!"

Erik walked back to the organ. He broke down, but only for a second. He turned around suddenly.

"Well, my dear, if you do not love me, then GO!"

"GO AND LEAVE ME IF YOU CANNOT LOVE ME! DO NOT TORTURE ME ANY LONGER! GO!"

Erik ran toward Christine as if he was going to attack her.

She fled from his home in tears.

On the street again, she ran in the opposite direction of the taxi. Her chest was heaving and she could not breathe. She cried so violently that she attracted the attention of several passersby. She couldn't answer to them now or to Raoul . . . oh, Raoul . . .

At last, she stopped walking. Her body was rattled by her sobs but she could not seem to stop. She cried for her Angel of Music, for her father, and for Erik all at once.

She mumbled a goodbye to the opera house and to Erik. She couldn't bear the sight of that building anymore.

And so, she began walking. She walked down the street and the opera house became smaller and smaller behind her.

Not back to Raoul's, she decided. Not yet.

So she walked. Night fell, and Christine only broke out of her thoughts when she felt a raindrop on her face.

She looked around.

And when she realized that she had no idea where she was, she smiled.


End file.
